


Smoke on the Water

by Lostgiraffe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Blood and Gore, Cigarettes, F/F, Fareeha is always smoking lmao, Gay, Guns, Implied Sexual Content, Mafia AU, Protection, Romance, Smoking, Violence, at least I think so, bodyguard!Fareeha, inspired by LogosMinusPity's Pocket Full of Shells and Healthdrink's Attention, yes angela fareeha will protect you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:04:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostgiraffe/pseuds/Lostgiraffe
Summary: The assassination attempt should’ve shaken her.But when Angela was ushered out of the ballroom on the arms of her two most loyal bodyguards, her eyes could not leave one figure.“One of ours, madam,” Ren grunted as he pushed yet another screaming figure when Angela asked who the woman with the cigarette was. “A freelance. Literally. Demanded to tag along ‘just for the fun’.”The woman with the cigarette then dashed out of the ballroom using the back exit, presumably in pursuit of the attacker, the cigarette dangling loosely on her lips.orAngela encounters a skilled bodyguard, whose expertise lands her in Angela's bed.





	Smoke on the Water

**Author's Note:**

> A mafia/gangster AU, inspired heavily by Healthdrink's Attention and LogosMinusPity's Pocket Full of Shells. Enjoy.

_ Bang! _

The smoke from Fareeha’s cigarette and her gun mingled together in the chill night air. Tucking her 9mm back into its holster underneath her blazer, she let out a long sigh.

“Such a fucking cliche.”

The man opposite of her sank to his knees, gapingly staring at the bleeding hole right next to his heart. Noticing Fareeha, he lifted his hand in an attempt to bait her closer.

“Wait! I can explain! I can-”

_ Bang!  _

The man’s body finally tumbled onto the pavement, a pool of red beneath him. Fareeha took a long drag of her cigarette, then lowered her gun, the trigger seemingly warm beneath her fingers.

She pressed down on the com on her right ear.

“Gunman down, suspect apprehended. Is the madam safe?”

It took a second before the com crackled back in response, and the voice of Jesse McCree filled her ear.

“Good job, Faree. Angela’s mighty fine, thanks to you. Head to Ange’s home base, and we’ll patch ‘ya up. Over ‘n out.”

____________

The assassination attempt should’ve shaken her.

But when Angela was ushered out of the ballroom on the arms of her two most loyal bodyguards, her eyes could not leave one figure.

_ “One of ours, madam,”  _ Ren grunted as he pushed yet another screaming figure when Angela asked who the woman with the cigarette was.  _ “A freelance. Literally. Demanded to tag along ‘just for the fun’.” _

The woman with the cigarette then dashed out of the ballroom using the back exit, presumably in pursuit of the attacker, the cigarette dangling loosely on her lips.

____________

“How’re you  _ not  _ a fuckin’ mess?”

Fareeha glared at Jesse as she straightened her suit and tightened her tie in front of a mirror. Her client’s mansion was certainly big, chandeliers hung everywhere and a lobby large enough to deem a basketball court pitiful.

“I’m a professional,  _ McCree. _ ” And that was all the explanation he got before Fareeha signaled for the guards to open the doors to her client’s office.

Her client was sitting behind her long, lacquered wooden desk, sporting a sleek white dress with ruffles on the right shoulder that made it look like she had wings. Her hands clasped together on the table. Her office was modest at best; half the size of her lobby. Bookshelves lined the walls, and all that there was on her desk were an ashtray and an unsolved Rubik’s cube.

Fareeha’s eyebrow almost raised at the sight of the cube, but she kept on her professional facade.

“Ms. Ziegler,” Fareeha said, tilting her head slightly downwards. A puff of smoke escaped her lips as she said the words.

“Are you always smoking, Ms. Amari?” Her client gestured at the two chairs in front of her desk, but Fareeha remained standing.

“Is that information affiliated to your assassination?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, then.” Fareeha inhaled the smoke deeply, then with her index finger and thumb, extracted the cigarette and let out a long exhale, the smoke reaching for the ceiling. “If you deem my actions to be of your discomfort, I will be out of your hair.”

Suddenly, a black blur whizzed past the corner of her eye and Fareeha instinctively sidestepped and grabbed the object flying through the air. She turned her hand around. Her client threw-

“A pen?”

Her client hummed acceptingly, lowering her right hand which was suspended from the throw.

“Quick. You are quite quick.”

“And that’s how I caught the assassin.” 

Angela stood from her desk, and strutted slowly towards Fareeha. “And tell me, who are you?”

“I thought you already knew, Ms. Ziegler.”

“Well, I’d like to know from the woman herself. Is that so wrong?”

By now, Fareeha and her client were face to face, Fareeha towering over the other woman.

“No.”

The blonde raised a pale, lithe hand and let it run idly along the length of Fareeha’s tie. 

“Then, pray tell, who  _ are  _ you?”

Fareeha opened her mouth to answer, but her client’s hand flew from her tie to her jaw, clamping her mouth down on her cigarette.

“Another assassin, perhaps? Or maybe a bounty hunter, facing off another for the money on my head? Or maybe just another nobody, thinking that a woman such as I would be an easy target. No one takes jobs under me for  _ free. _ ” Her client’s soft hands stroked Fareeha’s jaw. “And under the facade of  _ such  _ a chivalrous bodyguard. I noticed you tonight. I notice everyone.” Fareeha stiffened as her client went on her toes to whisper in her ear, her voice husky. “And I get  _ everything  _ I want.”

Fareeha let out an exhale of smoke, a trace of a smile on her lips. “Do you?”

Suddenly, she felt a sharp poke in her lower abdomen. She didn’t need to, but she looked down to see an ornate dagger pressed into her, poking ever-so-slightly. Her client smiled, and with her free hand tucked a hair behind Fareeha’s ear.

“Not very perceptive, are you, bodyguard?”

 As the words left her mouth, her client gasped and looked down to see the nose of Fareeha’s 9mm pistol pressed firmly to her hip. Fareeha grinned, her facade of professionalism long forgotten.

“Apparently, so aren’t you, Ms. Ziegler.”

This time, it was her client’s turn to smile. Her push on the dagger slackened, and Ms. Ziegler reached up with her free hand and plucked Fareeha’s cigarette from her mouth. Fareeha watched, dumbstruck, as Angela took it into her own mouth and puffed from it, then let it dangle dangerously from her mouth with an equally dangerous glint to her eyes.

“Kill me then.”

“I am not an assassin.”

“Then why are you here?”

Fareeha took a deep inhale, inhaling the smoke coming from her stolen cigarette.

_ “For fun.” _

Fareeha then retracted her pistol, and unscrewed its suppressor, all the while eyeing  _ her  _ fucking cigarette on her client’s lips.

“Are you going to give that back anytime soon, or will I have to light a new one?”

Ms. Ziegler smiled. “I quite like the flavor on this one.”

Fareeha snorted, catching the lie. “It’s a cheap Camel. I’m sure you’ve tasted far better.  _ I  _ have.”

Her client’s reply came as quick as lightning.

“It is not the flavor of the cigarette that I like.”

Fareeha’s jaw locked as her gaze met her client’s, deep brown meeting baby blues. They stayed silent for a moment, Fareeha further working her jaw and trying to keep a blush from breaking her facade.

“Then enjoy.”

She turned and exited the office, leaving a smirking Angela puff her cigarette, casually leaning on her desk as the wooden double doors closed.

____________

Thankfully, those who wanted to kill Angela Ziegler weren’t easy to kill.

Fareeha threw a straight jab to the burly man, who sidestepped and rammed her into a nearby wall. Grunting with effort, Fareeha managed to strike a knee against his groin and pushed him off, sending him careening towards a garbage bin. 

They both panted heavily, Fareeha keeping her gaze on his eyes, watching for a slight tilt for her to give her a prediction of the future. 

_ Flick. _

“You’re dead now, pretty lady,” the man guffawed as he inched closer to her, his switchblade glinting from a stray bulb in the alley.

Fareeha stepped into the ashy, yellow light, the gash above her right eyebrow now prominent, and her black eye appearing darker. Despite this, she smiled, ushering the burly man to growl in anger and lunge at her.

Aiming her wrist, she knocked the switchblade out of his hands easily, then held out her forefinger and her middle finger as he pushed forward. Her fingers struck him right in his throat, and he choked briefly before Fareeha swung around and performed a roundhouse kick that hit him square in the jaw.

The ground trembled as the burly man hit the ground hard, teetering on consciousness. Fareeha wiped away a strand of blood by her lips, then walked to retrieve her 9mm that was knocked away from her at the start of the fight. 

Returning back to the burly man, she lowered the nose of her suppressor right to his forehead. The man grinned like a madman, and laughed into the night air. The smoke from Fareeha’s still-lit cigarette on the ground dwindled slightly from his air.

“I will be,” Fareeha muttered gravely. “But not for now.”

She pulled the trigger. 

_ Click.  _

She groaned and glared at her empty pistol as the burly man laughed like a madman.

“Such a fucking cliche,” she cursed as she reached for a magazine tucked in the waistband of her pants. The man took this as his cue to speak.

“You think I’ll be the last? Ziegler has the highest bounty on the pool! There’ll only be more! There’ll only be more and you won’t be able to sto-”

_ Bang! _

The man’s forehead bled onto the pavement, Fareeha sighing in relief.

“Shut up.”

Holstering her gun, she backed up against the wall and fished out a box of cigarettes and her lighter. Clicking her lighter, she sighed as she sank down the wall, inhaling the comforting scent of smoke. Now sitting, she leaned her head back to look up at the stars, still imminent despite the city lights.

Fareeha closed her eyes, the imprint of the stars still on her eyelids as she dozed off to sleep, her com crackling, battered beside the dead, burly man.

____________

Fareeha awoke with a start, clutching the sides of her jacket for her pistol.

Lush, white blankets covered the lower half of her body, while her button-up shirt was unbuttoned, revealing her white tank top underneath. Strips of cloth wrapped around her forehead, and she groaned as she realized where she was. A guest room. No doubt a guest room in Ms. Ziegler’s mansion.

“I’ve got to say, I have underestimated you greatly, Fareeha.”

Fareeha groaned inwardly as she lay her head back onto the pillow.  _ Why is this so fucking soft? _

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Ms. Ziegler.”

“Please, call me Angela.”

“Nonsense. I don’t deserve to.” Fareeha tried sitting up, but a hand on her chest quickly pushed her back down.

“Rest. I patched you up myself.”

“Thank you.”

The two bathed in comfortable silence, Fareeha looking over to see that Angela was smoking a cigarette in a chair beside her bed, the smoke wafting from it  _ very  _ familiar.

“Is that one of mine?” Fareeha asked, a grin playing on her lips despite her effort to maintain her cool facade.

“I’ve told you, I don’t like the cigarette for the cigarette’s flavor.”

Quick as lightning, Fareeha’s right hand snatched up the cigarette from Angela’s lips, settling it on her own mouth and sighing in content as she inhaled the comforting smoke. She tasted a faint trace of cherry chapstick, and didn’t fail to notice the dapper of red lipstick on its tip.

“I agree, Ms. Ziegler.”

____________

Ms. Ziegler invited her for a night out along with her other bodyguards for a ‘celebration.’

Fareeha didn’t feel like celebrating.

She took another long drag of her cigarette, gazing up lazily at the night sky as she leaned against a steel lamppost. Her blazer was hung lazily over her shoulder, her tie hanging around her shoulders, and the top two buttons of her dress shirt unbuttoned. 

“No fun tonight,” Fareeha sighed, watching as the smoke from her cigarette wafted towards the night air.

“What if I changed that?”

A lithe hand plucked her cigarette from her mouth as Fareeha frowned, watching the blonde woman take a deep puff before blowing it to Fareeha’s face.

“Why,” Fareeha said lowly, reaching inside her blazer pocket to pull out another cigarette. “You have some assassins caged in your mansion, ready to be let out?”

A click of her lighter, and Fareeha was breathing again.

“I have a beast,” Angela replied, watching the lights of the cars on the street approach, then run away. “And it hasn’t escaped for a while. Would that be enough for you?”

Fareeha smiled, under the impression that Angela hasn’t noticed her shift of emotion. The two have been playing a teasing game, Fareeha having found herself back in Angela’s guest room several more times from several more assassination attempts. Jesse was dumbstruck at how many times Fareeha saved Angela’s life, while Angela payed her back with constantly stealing her precious fucking cigarettes.

“It might,” Fareeha replied with mock wariness, casting her eyes downward and sighing. “Maybe a little taste would entice me?”

Angela turned to Fareeha and smiled widely, her hands reaching up to run against Fareeha’s unfixed collar.

“You, Fareeha Amari, are a beast yourself.”

But as Angela smiled, that dangerous glint to her baby blue eyes now appearing, her hands drifted to her jacket that covered her red dress. She pulled the offending garment off, and twirled around to show her backside to Fareeha.

The trail of smoke coming from Fareeha’s cigarette froze.

_ The beast is so fucking sexy. _

She didn’t know what it was; the pull of Angela’s dangerous eyes or the swell of her ass that made Fareeha step forward, eyes darkened with lust.

“It’s enough.”

____________

The beast turned out to be screaming Fareeha’s name the whole night.

Or rather, the beast wasn’t the only beast in the room.

____________

“Stay,” Angela begged from underneath the sheets, the blanket pulling back as she reached for Fareeha’s form.

Fareeha looked at Angela, regret in her eyes as she tugged the latch of her belt around her pants. “Too obvious. The other guards-”

“Who fucking  _ cares?  _ It’s my life!”

“But what if they find out you’ve been screwing with one of them?”

“Is leaving more worthy another round?”

Usually, Fareeha would just grab the rest of her suit ensemble and leave the woman right then and there.

But her mussed up blonde hair.

But the lavishness of her bared skin, glinting with sunlight.

But that dangerous look to her eyes.

How could Fareeha say no to such an offer? 

The belt long forgotten, Fareeha was tugged down by the lapel of her tie by the beast herself.

“Good girl.”

____________

Fareeha cursed under her breath, smoke escaping from her lips.

The other guards had found out, and now attacks were more imminent against Angela Ziegler. The array of actions led Fareeha to believe that Angela had a mole amongst her ranks.

_ It’s above my paygrade to seek moles,  _ she thought as she took yet another deep drag of the Camel, a faint trace of cherry chapstick tingling Fareeha’s taste buds.  _ Yet again, I’m not even getting paid for this. _

“Do you ever stop smoking?”

Angela exited the shop on the arms of Ren and McCree, holding two large shopping bags that were labeled Armani.

“Will you ever stop stealing my cigarettes?” Fareeha shot back, stretching out an arm to take the bags from Angela. As soon as Angela gave her the bags, her pale hand shot out to steal the cigarette from her mouth. Humming contentedly, she took a puff, as her bodyguards opened the door to her limousine.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Fareeha grunted.

____________

_ Bang! Bang! Bang! _

Bullets whizzed by her head, one chipping off the edge of her cigarette, Fareeha cursed, fumbling for a mag under her belt.

_ “Fareeha, backup coming in fifteen minutes. Hang on!” _

“Fuck you, McCree!”

_ Whizz! Whizz! Whizz! _

Fareeha absolutely  _ hated  _ hospitals. It smelled like death, and they never allowed smoking. Yet, under the command of Madam Ziegler, the security guards relented to her cigarette dangling from her mouth.

They were hiding behind a mere steel cart, both Fareeha and Angela. Angela had her dagger out, glaring at the assassins as if she could kill them by looks alone.

“Stay,” Fareeha grunted as she slammed the mag into her pistol. “I’m going to flank them.”

Although it wasn’t a good idea to leave a client alone, this was the best choice, as their only way out was blocked by about ten men.

Angela nodded, flinching a little as a bullet struck against the steel.

Fareeha dashed towards a wall, firing madly at the assailants. Making her way around the maze of the hospital, she found herself facing the backside of the men, all still firing at Angela. She pressed her back firmly against a wall and retracted the mag in her gun, counting the steel-tipped cylinders.

_ 1... 2… 3… 4… 5…  _ fuck.

Five bullets would have to do for ten men.

Side by side with the walls, she crept slowly towards the men, her gun held upwards. Stealth was her first resort, and bullets would be her last. 

The first man she took down was quick and easy; none of the other men noticed. Dragging away the body was a harder job, as the blood leaking from his neck trailed.

The next man she planned to take down, she knew she would be spotted for sure. 

 She crept up behind him and swiftly swung her leg at his, making him tumble to the ground. He yelped in surprise, scrambling to his feet before Fareeha lunged at him, tackling to the ground.

“Hey! Shoot her!”

Oh yeah. She’s fucked for sure.

Quickly finishing off the man below her with a twist of his neck, she combat rolled towards a nearby corner, cursing under her breath as bullets whizzed by her head. Her only choice now was to shoot.

Hearing the familiar  _ clicks  _ of magazines emptying, she leaned out of her cover, lining up the sights to a head unluckily peeking out of its cover.

_ Bang!  _

The head promptly dropped from view, and blood spattered on the wall behind it.

Quickly ducking back to her cover as another hail of bullets congratulated her, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the wall.

Four bullets. For seven men

She looked around for something-  _ something  _ to give her a leverage. Pockets- empty. Belt- usable, but maybe not for this situation. 

But there was something that she could use.

-

The firing abruptly stopped. 

“Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know.”

The commander peeked out from his cover, searching for the bodyguard. “Did we get her?”

“Maybe-”

Instantaneously, a black figure appeared from the corner of his vision, holding a fire extinguisher, and white smoke filled his vision.

“What-”

The whole corridor was then filled with smoke. The commander looked around, looking for his comrades.

“Trevor? Abdul? Wha-”

The only thing he glimpsed before collapsing to the ground was brown eyes- and a wadjet. 

His head slammed to the ground, his world spinning, colors hazy. He noticed more bodies being dropped to the floor- gunshots-  _ bang, bang,-  _ is that Abdul’s body?

The ground shook, as did the commander’s vision. He shook his head, clearing the haziness, and got up to his knees.

This was the bodyguard’s doing. He knew it.

He whipped out his Beretta, pointing it aimlessly at the smoke, sweeping it back and forth through the air.

“Show yourself! Or I will show no mercy!”

_ Bang! _ Another gunshot echoed off the walls, and a yelp from one of his men quickly followed. The commander cursed the smoke under his breath, and started heading towards the sound of his comrade.

“Who goes ther-”

A wave of instinct swept through him, and he raised his right forearm just in time to block an incoming jab from the bodyguard. The commander pointed his gun to the bodyguard, but she quickly ducked and tackled him to the ground from his waist. Letting out a grunt of surprise, the commander tried to flip the both of them over, but it was no use. The bodyguard had too much  grip on his waist and lower body.

He cocked his gun, and pointed it to the bodyguard. His finger twitched-

_ Bang! _

And then silence, all but for the sound of an empty shell casing hitting the cold, marble floor.

“You have no mercy. You deserve no mercy.” The bodyguard stood, fingers gingerly feeling a dampness on her bicep.

Yet it was not her blood.

The commander chuckled darkly, his hands stationary at his side, not even moving to put pressure on the gaping bullet hole in his hip. He didn’t fail to notice the addition of an ornate, crystal-encrusted dagger sticking out of where his heart was.

“Good play. I’m sure Mr. Wick has inspired you a tad?”

The bodyguard smiled, her  _ wadjet  _ crinkling.

“Ah, yes. And so you do understand that that dagger is in your aorta, and if you pull it out you will bleed to death?”

“I do. Is this a professional courtesy on your part? A slim chance to live, but a chance nonetheless?”

The bodyguard stepped closer to him, squatting slightly so that her and the commander were face-to-face.

“Unfortunately, this is a borrowed dagger, and I have to bring it back to its owner. Good luck.”

The commander gasped as he felt a burning pain in his chest, blood filling his throat and trickling out the side of his mouth. He watched with fearful eyes as the dagger was pulled from his chest, slowly then completely. 

His head hit the cold, marble floor, shaking the shell casing of a 9mm bullet next to him.

____________

“I appreciate the dagger.”

Angela looked up, peering at her through her wire-rimmed glasses. She sighed, then took the glasses off, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she eyed her work on Fareeha’s stomach, the stitches a glaring red against the brown of Fareeha’s skin.

“It was the least I could do.” A pause. “Of course, the least I could do to help you save my life,” she added, standing to wash her hands in the sink in the corner.

“Well, it saved mine, albeit leaving you defenseless.” 

A scratch of a match scratching against sandpaper interrupted their conversation. Fareeha breathed out a sigh of relief as she took a puff of her newly-lit cigarette.

“I did not need it anyway,” Angela said, making her way back to Fareeha’s bed. Her bed dipped, and Angela lay down to rest her head on Fareeha’s chest, breathing in her smoke. “If those men were stupid enough to attack me in public, then they are too stupid to actually kill me.”

“You don’t know that,” Fareeha muttered, her cigarette swinging hither and thither with each of her words. 

“Yes, I do. Because you will be there to protect me.”

“How do you know?”

Blue eyes looked up to her, and Angela quickly sat up and swung her legs over Fareeha’s body, straddling her.

“Will you ever leave me?”

The answer came-

“No.” Fast enough that it cut off Angela’s sentence. Angela smiled, and snuggled her head on her chest.

“Well then.”

“A mutual understanding?”

Fareeha closed her eyes and felt the cigarette leave her mouth, replaced with the sudden taste of cherry chapstick on her lips.

“Yes.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> I may continue this, but then again, I might not. Let me know if I should!


End file.
